


The Bloody Dark One

by Crysania



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-13
Updated: 2015-05-13
Packaged: 2018-03-30 07:58:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,518
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3929023
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crysania/pseuds/Crysania
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Rumpelstiltskin sacrifices himself as is brought back, the whole town considers him a hero. He sets out to prove to them that he's still the Dark One, which backfires on him in any number of ways.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bloody Dark One

Life has returned to normal. At least for most of Storybrooke. Pan’s curse was defeated. Pan himself was defeated. Rumplestiltskin had saved them all and for the denizens of Storybrooke, that was perhaps the biggest change. Rumplestiltskin has _sacrificed himself_. And while his son had managed to find a way to bring him back, his death and resurrection had subsequently made him a _hero_ in their eyes.

They stopped by his shop now. Not to make a deal. Not to try to weasel some sort of potion out of him. But to chat.

With the Dark One.

One of the dwarves even eyed him up and down and said “Maybe you’re not the Dark One anymore.”

That was the final straw. Rumplestiltskin was the Dark One. He always would be. Unless someone killed him. But it’s not like he’s going to allow that. Or allow anyone within at least ten feet of that dagger.

And so he has to prove it.

_Prove it_.

How utterly ridiculous. The town sees him as some sort of hero, as if he’s changed sides, as if he’s one of _them_. A Charming. Welcomed into the family, thankful that he’s no longer the villain he once was, happy to shake his hand or even hug him.

_Hug him_.

The Dark One.

Just the day before Charming came in to say hello, clasped his hand, invited him to dinner. A potluck. The Dark One at a potluck dinner. He even told him that the damned Blue Fairy had made sure to have him invite him.

No, really, he supposes that _that_ is the final straw. Dwarves thinking he’s not the Dark One is one thing. Annoying, but he can live with it. They’re idiots anyway. But the day the Blue Fairy considers him an ally and invites him to one of her ridiculously inane potluck dinners is the day that he knows he must reclaim his life.

And his title.

He doesn’t even know how to do it and so sets out to walk the town. He scowls at everyone he passes, despite their smiles and their looks and their _Hello there, Rumplestiltskin, fine day don’t ya think?_ nonsense.

Archie is the latest to get his fierce glower and the man stops, cocks his head to the side. Rumplestiltskin snarls something incoherent at the man. _Scamper off, little bug_. But he doesn’t. Archie just reaches out and touches his shoulder.

“I know that what happened with your father must be tough for you.” Rumplestiltskin starts to speak, but Archie goes on before he has a chance to say a word. “I know he was considered a demon by everyone, but he’s still your father. If you ever need to talk, my door is open.” And then he’s gone, whistling a jaunty tune as he rests his ever-present umbrella on his shoulder.

He really should set fire to his office.

That ought to teach the irritating bug a lesson.

When he sets off, he continues his attempts to look fierce, to remind them that the Dark One is to be feared, not to be trifled with, that going the other way would be the best thing they could do.

And it was working too. Or at least, he was sure it was, ignoring the smiles and the knowing looks some of them cast his way, until Belle came across him.

“Rumple!” Her rushing to his side, her concerned look. He crumbles. How can he not? “Are you ok? Everyone is worried about you.”

“Worried?” He tries for non-committal. “Why would anyone be worried about me?”

“You do look very upset,” she points out and reaches up to run her fingers through his hair, pushing it back from his face, watching him with worried eyes.

“I’m not upset, sweetheart. I’m the Dark One.” He points this out like it should be obvious what he means. He’s the _damned Dark One_. Dark looks and anger are part and parcel of his life. It _is_ him.

But Belle just shakes her head and smiles at him. “You’re not love, not anymore.”

“I am…”

“Well, you are I suppose. But not to this town. Not to these people. You’re their hero.” And damned if his heart doesn’t melt a little bit when he hears the admiration in her voice. She loves him. He knows this much, though he never can quite figure out why. But admiration? That’s not something anyone has ever had for him.

He shouldn’t like it this much.

“I’m no hero,” he mutters and Belle just leads him off. Like the puppy he is in her hands.

He’ll probably go to the damned potluck dinner too.

* * *

And he does. Goes to it with a forced smile in place, Belle on his arm. And everyone welcomes him as if he’s simply always been a part of their group.

He hates that a little part of him likes it, that a little part of him has craved such affection and has wanted to _belong_.

He shrugs it off though. He can’t show weakness. He alternates between glowering at people and smiling until Belle pulls him aside and asks what the hell is wrong with him. He just shrugs. What _can_ he say really?

_Sweetheart, these people should_ fear _me. And they don’t. I need their fear_.

He’s the damned bloody _Dark One_ and fear is the least of what he deserves from the other people in their little town.

* * *

A few days later he realizes nothing is going to change. He realizes this when Granny of all people stops by with a muffin for him. His favorite type of muffin.

_Granny_.

She used to charge him extra for pickles.

Now she gives them to him for free, sometimes even comping his whole meal even though he’s the richest bastard in town.

_Granny_.

This can’t happen. They need to fear him. The damned _Dark One_.

He starts small. Maybe if he makes some kids cry, they’ll all realize who he is and leave him alone. They’re playing baseball in one of the fields as he walks by. Just a few small boys with their gloves and balls and bats. One of them steps up to the plate and readies his bat. Rumplestiltskin grins.

The ball flies from the pitchers hand toward the bat and when the child strikes it, a bit of magic hits the ball too. It flies backward, hitting the tree behind it and all the kids turn to watch. “How did that…” one of them starts to say when he spies Rumplestiltskin standing at the edge of the field. There’s an audible gasp and he just smirks.

And then the baseball falls out of the tree.

Followed by another ball, larger and orange. _Basketball_ , his curse memories tell him.

“Mr. Tillman’s basketball!” one of the kids shouts.

“It’s signed by Michael Jordan,” another adds and Rumplestiltskin has no idea what they’re talking about.

“Oh thank _God_ ,” a third adds. “If I didn’t find that ball, he was gonna kill me!”

The first one turns back toward Rumplestiltskin and shouts a quick thanks and then they all rush off, leaving a gaping Rumplestiltskin staring after them.

* * *

He’s put off from trying again for a time. The first one had backfired so spectacularly that he isn’t sure what else he can do.

In the meantime, people keep coming in.

He loves seeing Belle. And his son. He even enjoys his time with Henry. He’s getting to know them all again, getting used to having a family. He never thought he'd have one again. He never had any hope that there could be any reconciliation between himself and his son. But there was. It's an ongoing process, but his sacrifice had been the most important part in bringing his son back.

Unfortunately it also brings the Charmings, who seem ever grateful to him for everything he's ever done for them. They're almost obsequious and it's so bloody irritating. They were irritating enough when they came to ask for potions while looking down their noses at him. Always good enough to give them what they wanted, but still one of the "others" they seemed to frown on. He wasn't quite human in their land. And they never could completely forget that, could they?

This day though they have no interest in potions. Or magical solutions of any sort.

They've stopped by to say "hi."

_To the Dark One._

Charming even claps him on the back, calls him "old man," as if they're longtime buddies and not barely civil.

What is the world coming to?

At least Snow still looks awkward, a bit unsure of him. She eyes him somewhat warily but then smiles as her husband tells him how happy they are that he's part of the family.

He's welcome for dinner.

Any time.

Just stop by and you'll be welcomed in with open arms.

Bloody ridiculous.

He hands them a potion, _of his own free will and goodness_. He's heard, through the grapevine (or from Belle at least), that they're trying to get pregnant and having a hard time of it. Snow has been feeling down, defective.

"It will help you with…" He waves one hand in the air, not quite sure how to continue that line of thought.

"Really?" Snow asks as she takes the potion carefully, eyes wide.

"Yes, really." He gives them a smirk and Charming reaches out to pull him into a hug.

_This really needs to change_.

And it will. When they leave, he can no longer hold back the laughter. Oh yes, the potion will help. Well, help them completely lose it. It's not often he brews potions just for their effects but this particular one will render the couple high as kites. He can't wait until they come to Granny's and stagger around and the whole town will wonder what the hell is wrong with them.

He might even make sure he's there to watch.

They need to know they can't trust the Dark One. They need to know he'll double-cross them at every turn.

They'll be angry.

They'll come running back to him with eyes lit with fire and anger and hate. And they'll tell everyone else to never ever trust the Dark One. That he has not changed. That he is not their hero.

* * *

It's some three weeks later and he's been biding his time. Waiting. They'll come eventually, angry, embarrassed. He'll revel in it, act innocent, laugh at their pain.

Belle will admonish him, of course. She always does. But then there's a part of her that secretly loves his dark side. Or at least, there's a part that does when he unleashes it in ways that make her laugh. Dark quips and little pranks. She'll find this terribly amusing even if she rolls her eyes and acts annoyed.

When the Charmings walk into his shop, the bell jingling merrily behind them, he steps out from behind the curtain.

"And how might I be of service today?" The smirk is already in place. He only has to wait for their anger, their hatred. The reminders that he is the _Dark One dammit all_ and they better respect him for all that he is.

But they’re not giving him those looks, he realizes. Just a moment too late. He should have thrown them out. Thrown fireballs. Thrown _up_. Anything to chase them out of his shop so he doesn’t have to hear their next words.

Or see their smiles.

Because they are _smiling_. Giddy almost. Snow’s mouth stretches wide and the grin reaches her eyes and Charming looks…satisfied. Smug. There’s a sort of pride in the way he’s carrying himself that Rumplestiltskin doesn’t remember seeing recently.

“That potion,” Snow starts to say and then pauses.

“Yes dearie?” He tries sneering the words, but they come out more curious than anything else.

_This is not good_.

“It worked _great_ ,” Charming says and now he realizes what that look is. What that look says.

“We’re pregnant!” Snow chimes in with and Charming wraps an arm around her and they look so damned domestic standing in his shop, beaming at him. Like he’s given them the sun and the moon and stars on a silver platter.

He’s almost afraid to say anything and so just nods. Anything he says might be taken the wrong way. Or rather, the right way, by them. They might think he’s happy for them. He can’t have that, now can he?

“And it’s all thanks you,” Charming says and steps closer. He can see his hand reaching up and skitters back.

“Yes, yes I’m sure…”

“Your potion made us so relaxed that things just…worked,” Snow adds. There’s a blush to her cheeks and Rumplestiltskin can well imagine exactly what happened. They were so _focused_ on having a baby that the tension and stress of it all led to infertility.

And so this.

“I don’t need to know about this,” he mutters.

They leave soon after, all happy and slightly awkward grins.

“You’re their hero.” The voice comes from behind him and he turns to find Belle standing there. He softens at the look shining in her eyes.

“How much did you hear?”

“Enough,” she answers and steps closer. She cocks her head slightly to the side. “You don’t look happy.”

He sighs at the feel of her hand in his hair as she reaches out to touch him. “I’m not.”

“But…”

“I don’t want to be anyone’s hero,” he admits. “I never wanted to be.”

“Never?”

He sighs. What did he want to be? Maybe once, so long ago that it’s almost like a different life, he wanted to be his son’s hero. "Once," he finally says and he can't meet her eyes. "It was a long time ago." She's silent at his small confession and he manages to choke out "I'm the Dark One now."

"They don't think so."

He scoffs.

"They _don't_. I don't." Her hand on his arm is firm and he forces himself to meet her eyes.

"You're the only one I don't want to think of me that way." Her eyes look sad, he realizes. She wants him to be a hero. She _likes_ him being a hero. "The rest of them," he adds with a small flourish of his hand. "They need to fear me."

"And so giving Snow and David a potion to…"

"It wasn't supposed to work that way," he interrupts with.

"It was supposed to…"

"Embarrass them." He gives her a sheepish look. "It was supposed to make fools out of them in front of the whole town."

"How?" she asks, but then holds up a hand. "Nevermind. I don't want to know."

"I'm a bad man, Belle."

She quirks one eyebrow at him and bites her lower lip. It's a look he well knows and he cannot stop the answering grin on his face. "Oh, Rumple," she finally says and then leans close. "If you need to play 'Big Bad Dark One,' why don't you come play it with me?"

She flounces off, short skirt swishing as she turns. "I'll be at home waiting."

And then she's gone.

He'll close up shop early. Well, not _early_. _Now_. Some things are more important than his need to remind the whole damned town that he's the bloody Dark One.

* * *

He’s tried _everything_ he realizes. Damned near everything. It’s like there’s a curse hanging over him and it’s not the Dark One curse. It’s something else. The Hero Curse. He’s not even sure anymore.

He trips Archie one day. Just to be mean. The man has said to him one too many times _My door is open_. He supposes it was a mistake to go to him in the first place. It’s made the bloody cricket think he’s some sort of help for him.

But he’ll teach him. He’ll show the damned cricket just what he’s made of.

Even if what he’s made of is slightly childish.

And so he reaches out with his cane and hooks it in front of the man’s ankle and down he goes.

He laughs as the cricket’s face turns red and he waits for the anger and the hate and the _You haven’t changed a bit, have you?_ He’ll revel in it. He knows it. And people will shake their heads and tell their friends that the Dark One is back and they were so very very wrong about Rumplestiltskin.

Then something falls out of the sky.

Or rather…something falls out of a second story window. It hits the ground, hard and even Rumplestiltskin is forced to jump back a foot to keep out of the way of the debris as it shatters. There’s silence for a moment as he glances up and sees a sheepish face glance down at him.

One of the at least partially brain-dead handymen in this town.

“Dr. Hopper! Oh my gosh!” the man is shouting and Rumplestiltskin can feel a headache coming on at the sound of his grating voice. “Are you ok?”

Archie is picking himself up off the ground, brushing himself off. He glances up at the man and squints. His glasses are somewhere and if Rumplestiltskin could find them he’d step on the things for good measure. Just because.

_What have I turned into?_ he suddenly wonders. Some sort of teenage boy who tortures nerdy little crickets by stepping on their glasses. Ridiculous. He’s the damned Dark One. He should just obliterate the man because he got in his way.

That would teach him.

Except Archie is squinting at him and there’s this look on his face and he knows all too well what’s coming. “You saved me,” the cricket says. And there’s awe in his voice and a jaw that’s half open as he speaks, as if he can’t quite believe it.

But then he smiles. And reaches out a hand toward him. He wants to shake his hand. He knows this. But he stands stock still.

Something flashes near his eyes and he turns to see one of the reporters, not Sidney Glass, he’s long gone after all. But someone else, waving and taking a photo and Archie grabs his hand so he has no hope of escape.

He’s a bloody hero.

* * *

The picture in the paper shows a grinning Archie and a rather dour looking Rumplestiltskin. Belle loves it anyway. She carefully cuts it out and puts it in a scrapbook and he wants to bang his head against a wall.

“You’re very handsome,” she points out. Though he knows it’s not true. He looks angry in the picture. He _was_ angry.

He glances down at the picture. “I look old,” he mutters.

“Not a day over two hundred,” Belle answers with. And then laughs. That laugh can always warm his cold, nearly dead heart and so he leans over and kisses her lightly on the cheek.

“Well, at least I don’t look _that_ old.” She laughs again and kisses him firmly on the mouth. He knows where it’s leading. He might be old, he might have been around the block a few times, but it didn’t take much from Belle to make him ready for _that_.

She laughs again as she jumps up and grins at him. “Race you?” And then she’s gone and he’s following her. Even the Dark One does not deny his lady love what she wants.

* * *

He spends the next week following Hook around. Like he’s some sort of damned stalker. But even _he_ has been giving him looks that indicate he’s thankful for his sacrifice. There has been no declaration of undying thanks for what he did, nothing big or grand. But there’s a strange softening and he inclines his head in Rumplestiltskin’s direction when he passes him on the street.

And that is simply unacceptable.

Belle tells him he’s being ridiculous and he really should just let that whole blood feud go.

But he’s the bloody _Dark One_ and if anyone should remember it, it’s the man whose hand he cut off all those years ago.

Emma must be getting to him though. She _must_. They’ve been spending a lot of time together he’s noticed and Emma, like her parents, is a perpetual fount of _good_. Of heroics. She’s the bloody savior and it’s his own damned fault, really.

But he didn’t except the savior to end up getting in with the pirate who once destroyed his life. There are some things he really just cannot abide by and that’s one of them.

It’s sometime during the sixth day of following Hook that the man seems to finally notice his presence. Or recognizes it as something out of the ordinary. He whips around and stares at him and then one eyebrow quirks.

“Did you need something?” Hook asks and there’s an exasperation there. Not the annoyance he expected.

“Crocodile,” he manages to croak out.

“Pardon?” One of the man’s thick eyebrows raises and his head cocks just slightly to the side.

“You call me ‘Crocodile,’” he points out. Is he desperate? Perhaps he’s desperate.

“Aye,” Hook says but it’s clear he doesn’t understand.

Maybe he should rip his heart out. That ought to teach the smarmy bastard a lesson. Show him he hasn’t changed. Kill him right there on the spot. They’d all learn to fear him again.

His hand is reaching out and he feels the bloodlust inside him sing just a little bit. _Yes_. This is what the Dark One needs. He needs death. He needs destruction. He doesn’t need them to look at him and see a hero. He needs to be _feared_.

He snarls just slightly and then suddenly a soft hand is on his arm and he’s looking at his true love and it all just sort of deflates. The Dark One skitters back into his mind and his eyes meet Hook’s. The other man just reaches out a hand and puts it on his shoulder. Just for a moment.

“Belle, love, I think you need to get him some help.” He gives Rumplestiltskin another odd look and then saunters off, leaving him alone with Belle.

“Rumple, what _are_ you doing?” There’s a small catch in her voice as she asks the question and he turns to her.

And sighs.

“He should fear me.” He points this out as if it’s the only obvious explanation.

“Fear…”

“Yes,” he says before she can get further into the question. “I’m the Dark One.” It should explain everything.

Belle smiles and puts her arm around him. “Come on Dark One, let’s get you home.”

It’s often easier to simply capitulate to what Belle wants and so he walks alongside her, docile as a puppy.

Somewhere deep inside him the Dark One howls in terror.

* * *

Granny’s crossbow will only shoot yarn. She shoots him a dirty look every time he walks into the diner. But then shakes her head and goes back to her work. Sometimes she shoots him with the yarn, just for good measure.

In fact, she tells him that very day that the extra yarn has been helpful. She’s been knitting blankets for the Charmings’ new little one.

Red’s forced to wear clothes that fit. Well, he thinks they fit. They’re lovely and beautiful and Belle approves, of course. But they cover the woman’s midriff and her skirts go at least partway down her thighs. And worse, they’re pink. They clash terribly with her red highlights. He grins at her new look but she only comes over to thank him. She never _ever_ would have thought of pink and the outfit is so comfortable and she had no idea he had such good taste in clothes.

He points out that he picked out all of Belle’s outfits and that just makes the girl giggle.

_Giggle_.

He attempts to sour Regina’s dinner. She says it’s the best thing she’s ever tasted.

He doesn't even know what to do with himself anymore.

* * *

He teaches Henry how to brew some potions and then unleashes him on the world. He knows teenage boys. He’ll experiment. Maybe he’ll even blow up half the town and when it happens, Henry will say _Grandpa taught me_ and they’ll all come beating down his door in a mob of angry mothers and grandparents.

It will be glorious.

The Dark One inside him reacts with glee and it bubbles up out of him in a giggle.

“Rumple?” Belle is there of course, watching him showing Henry all he knows. And the boy is an apt pupil, watching carefully, asking the right questions.

He’s proud of the boy. Truly he is. He has a natural aptitude of magic and considering the family he comes from, with the savior on one side and the Dark One on the other, it doesn’t surprise him. Add in Regina’s influence, and one cannot discount that as the boy is her son more so than anyone else’s and you really have a recipe for a child who magic runs rampant in.

So it’s easy enough to show him some of his spells, some of his potions.

Regina isn’t sure of it, of course.

Emma Swan is even less in support of it.

_Perfect_.

He can get on their bad sides just by teaching their son a bit of magic. Maybe he’ll even teach him to drive. He still remembers the screeching of brakes as Charming attempted that. And he remembers the angry mothers and angry grandmother and wouldn’t it just be glorious to top that one.

Maybe he’ll teach him to ride a dragon.

Maleficent was still trapped beneath that library after all.

_Nahhhh_...

Potions would have to do for now.

He sends Henry off that evening with instructions to practice. “Practice makes perfect, my boy!” And Henry is all too glad of it. He’s wanted to learn his grandfather’s magic just as much as he’s wanted to learn his other grandfather’s sword fighting techniques and learn to ride horses like his mother.

Maybe he shouldn’t use him in such a way.

Though he really does enjoy working with Henry. He has a sharp mind. Intuitive. Intelligent. He’s a bit of a master manipulator for one so young and it’s ultimately why he took such a shine to the lad even before he knew they were related. He was a regular chip off the old block, a lot more Rumplestiltskin than Charming.

He looks forward to the disaster Henry causes.

He looks forward to the anger thrown his way over what he’s done. The _how can you teach such a young boy magic_ , sharp words and hatred.

He will revel in that. In finally having them _respect_ him again.

* * *

It doesn’t happen that way of course.

Belle comes running into the shop late one evening. She’s been working at the library and so he spends his evenings quietly tinkering in the shop until she’s ready to go home. She doesn’t know it, but he’s working on a ring right now. For her. He may be the Dark One, but he’s still a man who loves a woman and wants to make her his wife.

So when she comes rushing in, he’s quick to put it in a drawer and pull a clock closer.

“In here, sweetheart!” he calls to her.

She’s there in mere seconds and her face is flushed and he smiles. It’s not unusual for Belle to come find him at the end of a stressful day and let him take care of her…well… _needs_. He’s always up for it, as it were.

“The mayor’s mansion is on fire!” The words come out of her in a rush and it takes a moment for him to process exactly what she’s said.

“Is it now?” he finally asks and glances back at his clock.

“ _Rumple_.” Ah yes, there’s that voice. _The_ voice. He can’t help but cringe a little. She knows how to use that voice well. He’ll do _anything_ for her and she knows it. Not that she uses such power exactly. Not usually at least.

“What do you expect me to do about it?” His voice is bland as he speaks.

She crosses her arms over her chest and he sighs. He can’t look too eager after all. If she knew his part in all of this he was sure to get a scolding. And he’d probably have to sleep on the couch for a week. Or worse. Sleep on the floor and grovel for his forgiveness when they’re awake.

Not that Belle is really such a slave driver. But when she’s mad, well, she’s a glorious sight to behold even if he should be quaking in his boots. And it usually does not end well for him.

Only Belle can boss the Dark One around.

And he, admittedly, loves every moment of it.

“ _Rumple_ ,” she repeats sand he grins.

“Oh fine, let’s go see what’s going on.” He admits to a wee bit of worry. He’s sure Henry will be safe, but he _is_ his grandson and he wouldn’t want his manipulations to result in any sort of injury or worse to the boy.

They head out into the street and hear the shouts, see the people running, long before they can even get near the mansion. He expects to see flames leaping above the trees but sees nothing. There is more shouting as they get closer and Belle rushes him along. After all, he does need to see his handiwork. Or rather, Henry’s handiwork.

When they arrive there’s a large group of people outside the mansion. He can smell the burned wood, can see the charred bits of wood around the door and one window. It’s not a huge fire, but it’s something at least. Regina is off to the side somewhere breathing into an oxygen mask but still looking none the worse for her ordeal. Emma is checking on people to make sure everyone else is alright.

And then another cheer goes up.

“Henry!” Someone shouts the boy’s name. He’s not even sure who at that moment. Another person starts shouting it alongside him and he realizes it’s a _cheer_. Not hatred. Unadulterated joyful cheering.

“What’s going on?” he hears Belle ask one of the people rushing past them. One of the dwarves. Doc? Dopey? He never can keep them straight.

“Henry,” the dwarf says. He realizes it’s _Sneezy_ when the man offers up one of his namesake's sneezes. Whoever thought to name dwarves for their characteristics was either brilliant or a total idiot. He’s still not sure which. He’s not sure he ever will be. But then who is he to question names? His father, perfectly content with a very normal, very short name like _Malcolm_ decided to name him something utterly ridiculous and long. It took him what felt like centuries just to be able to write the damned thing. “He saved them.”

And then the dwarf is gone and Rumplestiltskin feels like the whole world is closing in on him.

“Stop!” comes the shout and _yes_ he thinks. Yes, Henry will stop all of this and tell them all who was careless enough to teach him potion work and not teach him to cast a spell to protect his workspace. He’ll have their anger and though it’s not quite _fear_ , it will be good enough for the time being.

The Dark One should be hated.

The Dark One should be feared.

He’ll take at least part of that.

Henry finally appears, climbing up the steps and pulling himself away from the people who are trying to hug him, clapping him on the back, shouting his name like he’s their hero and not the one who set fire to his mother’s place. He raises his hand and Rumplestiltskin scoffs. As if that will get them to…

And it does.

A hush falls over the crowd and he finds himself staring up at Henry with wide eyes.

“Listen everybody!” Henry shouts, his voice loud and clear. “It was my Grandpa who taught me how to make the potion!”

The crowd turns almost as one to face him. He steps forward just slightly. This is his moment. He’s going to relish every little bit of it.

“If it wasn’t for him, this place would have burned to the ground and we all would have died.” There’s a gasp and Rumplestiltskin realizes it comes from _him_.

This isn’t right.

These aren’t the right words.

He’s the damned _Dark One_.

_Fear me!!_

“He’s a hero,” Henry finishes with. Plain. Simple. And then everyone is applauding and they’re all staring at him and they all want to come hug him and it’s just too much.

With a quick glance at Belle, he waves a hand and then he’s gone. Disappeared into purple mist to hide in the back of his shop.

_The bloody Dark One_.

“You’re never going to do it, you know.” The voice comes from somewhere behind him and he whirls around. There’s a man standing there. Small and slight, though perhaps less small and less slight than himself. His eyes are dark, piercing, but he wears a friendly enough smile.

“Who are you?” The words are clipped as he speaks. He knows everyone. He does not know this man.

“Isaac,” the man responds with and holds out his hand.

Rumplestiltskin does not take it and the man shrugs.

“I’m never going to do _what_?” he asks after a moment of silence.

The other man, _Isaac_ , shrugs. “Convince them you’re anything but what you are.”

“I’m the Dark One,” he points out. As if that’s somehow necessary.

Isaac shakes his head and pulls a book out from his backpack. _The_ book. Henry’s book. The one he’s been toting around with him for what seems like forever at this point.

“You’re the author.” It’s a statement. Not a question. He realizes who he is the moment the book appears. The author, the one who writes down their lives, who knows the ins and outs of everything around them. They’ve all wondered if he still exists. And here he is, standing in his shop like he’s visited there every day.

“I am,” Isaac says and offers a small bow.

“You wrote this,” Rumplestiltskin says and takes a step toward him. He should snuff him out, though he’s fairly certain even the Dark One cannot kill the author.

Isaac shakes his head. “I didn’t.” Rumplestiltskin narrows his eyes on him. “ _You_ did. You rewrote your own story.”

“I…” He pauses there. What more can he say? “I’m the bloody _Dark One_.” It’s like a refrain in his mind. He’s evil. He’s the Dark One. He’s cursed and powerful and an entity to be feared.

Isaac just grins.

_Grins_.

At the bloody Dark One.

“You are,” he confirms. “But you’re also a hero. It’s possible to be both.”

“But I don’t want to be a hero.” He sounds a little whiney, a little petulant. The refrain is still there.

“No?”

“I never wanted to be.”

Isaac shakes his head. “Not even for your boy?”

He feels a small shudder wrack his body. “Maybe for him…”

“And Belle?"

He pauses there and looks down, unable to meet Isaac's eyes. Belle has always known who and what he is exactly. She tells him, often, sometimes vehemently, that she loves him just as he is. But would she rather him be the hero? Do the right thing? She seems incredibly proud of him. She seems to enjoy watching the town fawn all over him.

But if he were just the Dark One, just the man who makes wrong decisions, the one who is so difficult for people to love, would she be content? Even happy?

"Yes," he finally manages to get out. Yes, he wants to be her hero.

"Then you have your answer."

When Rumplestiltskin looks up, he's gone. He's not sure he was ever there to begin with. When the bell at the entrance jingles, he glances up and is surprised to see Belle entering the room. Well, not really all _that_ surprised. He did just disappear from her side, left her alone with a crowd intent on _touching_ him, on congratulating him.

"Rumple?"

He steps out from where he's hiding near the curtain. "Belle." Her name always sounds like a prayer on his lips, no matter how many times he's tried to modulate it, tried to make it sound less like the plea of a desperate man.

She rushes over to him and takes his hand. Her eyes search his and he's not sure what she'll find there. He's not sure what he _is_ anymore. The Dark One or the town's hero.

Maybe he's both as Isaac suggested.

"Are you alright?" she asks.

He nods, slowly, eyes shutting for a moment. "It was just…"

"Overwhelming?"

He opens his eyes to find such a look of understanding in hers that it takes his breath away. "Yes," he manages to get out.

She smiles then and it reaches her eyes. "I understand." And then she bites her lip and he knows she's about to ask him to do _something_ he probably doesn't want to do. "They're…uh…having a celebration at Granny's. For Henry," she quickly adds. "He's the big hero of the night."

He smiles at that. He can't help it. He gave Henry the means to destroy his house and somehow he manages to make a potion that extinguishes the fire. Henry is an amazing boy, a quick study. He's proud to call him grandson. "He is."

"They'd like you to be there."

He lets out an indelicate snort. "Of course they would."

"So will you come, oh great big bad Dark One?" There's a teasing note to her voice that might irritate him if it weren't coming from Belle.

"You're onto me, aren't you?"

"Whatever do you mean?" Her innocent act is good…almost. And it's not until he grabs her about the waist and pulls her tight against him that she lets out a little laugh. "Alright, alright. I know what you're on about."

"How long?"

"Hmmm?"

"How long have you known?"

She bites her lip and looks away. "Since Snow told me you gave them that potion."

He shakes his head. "That long?"

She nods. "That long."

"Hmph."

She steps out of his arms and reaches for his hand. "So are you coming?"

He entwines their fingers. "Another ridiculous potlock?"

"Nah," she responds with quickly. "Granny's lasagna."

He groans. "Maybe I ought to…" She gives him a look. He knows that look all too well. "Alright, you win. I won't."

She laughs again and pulls him toward the door. "But I won't enjoy it," he grumbles.

"I wouldn't expect anything else out of the big bad scary Dark One."

And then they're off. He'll be declared a hero. He'll endure back pattings and gentle ribbings and Charming trying to be his best friend. But if it gains him a family, if it gains him Belle and his son and grandson?

Well, some things are worth destroying his reputation for.


End file.
